


F is for Forgetting Felger (Or Shooting Him)

by sg_wonderland



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Off-Screen Missions Alphabet Soup collection, Season 07 ep 09 Avenger 2.0
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 23:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15083609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: Daniel goes out with SG-7. Everyone gets wet.





	F is for Forgetting Felger (Or Shooting Him)

**Author's Note:**

> No bumbling scientists were harmed in the making of this story.

Colonel Charles Creighton looked over the ruins of the city SG-7 had been documenting. “So, Dr. Jackson, this must have been a fairly advanced civilization.” He swept his hand out over the large city. Or what was left of it.

Daniel dusted his hands as he rose. “Yeah, but even the most advanced civilizations have yet to outsmart Mother Nature.”

“Lt. Hernandez says they might have been able to predict the quakes.”

“Knowing how frequently they occur and predicting them are two different things. Can you ever build a truly quake proof structure? I'm pretty sure Earth proves that's a resounding 'no'.”

Creighton flipped open his watch. “If the scientists are right, we should be having one in four hours....” The ground shook, gently at first then with an intensity that flung both men to the ground. “Okay, that was a little early.”

“So much for the prediction.” Daniel took the hand that helped pull him to his feet.

“Lt. Hernandez,” he barked into his radio. “Status.”

“A few bruises, sir, but no injuries. Bronte says that looks like a pretty bad storm heading from the west.” Creighton swung around. “We might need to take shelter, sir.”

“Affirmative.” He turned to help Daniel pack up his gear. “Think these buildings are stable enough or do we need to pitch a tent?”

“I think we'll have to risk the ruins, that storm looks pretty fierce.” He shouted as the wind picked up.

“SG-7, everyone head for the city hall building. We'll shelter there until the storm passes.”

The radio crackled again. “Colonel, this is Berinski. There's a problem with the gate. We tried to send another group of refugees through but we couldn't get a lock. The gate will not dial.”

“Say again.”

“Sir, the gate will not dial.”

Creighton swore sharply. “I hate rainy days.”

*

Creighton muttered under his breath as he confirmed Berinski's count. Four members of SG-7, Dr. Jackson and forty-two refugees. All huddled in the city hall. All stuck because the gate would not dial. They'd tried several times, dialing, at Jackson's suggestion, other friendly gates. Not one would lock.

Then Hammond had dialed in with the bad news.

“Jackson, what are the chances the SGC can fix this?”

“As in, one of them figuring out what the hell went wrong?” Jackson stretched his legs out, still damp from the last dial-out attempt. “Pretty much zip if Sam can't figure it out...” he shrugged.

Creighton had been keeping a very close eye on Jackson. Both O'Neill and Hammond had made it abundantly clear that this was in the nature of a shakedown cruise for Jackson: his first time out with someone other than SG-1 since his return from....wherever. 

O'Neill and Teal'c were going to size up the Jaffa situation, Carter was doing something on base so it was suggested that Jackson come with SG-7. Creighton felt like he should object and he wished now that he had. Jackson was, as far as Creighton was concerned, both untried and untested in this situation.

“Hernandez, you really think the gate is gonna flood?”

“I'd estimate no more that forty-eight hours, sir.”

“That soon? It isn't raining that hard.”

“Storm drains, sir.”

“Storm drains?”

“Yes, sir, they're all over the main square of the city. Indicates there have been floods here in the past, that they prepared for them. The rain isn't the problem, sir. It's the run-off. It goes into the drains and raises the river level. If it raises to the point that it floods the streets, we'll be trapped in this building.”

“And you've got sensors in the drains.”

“Yes, sir, we dropped a camera in one so we can gauge how fast the water is rising. If it overtakes the camera,” she left the sentence hanging.

“We'll have a problem.” he nodded. “So we evacuate.”

“Yes, sir. Much as I hate to suggest it, I think we'll have to head for the hills.”

“Thank you, Hernandez.” Although he'd already made up his mind, Creighton wandered over to sit next to Daniel. “So, Jackson, what do you think?”

Jackson, long having abandoned his glasses, peered at him. “You're asking for my opinion?”

“Yes, there must be some reason Hammond sent you along.”

“Fine.” Jackson's voice was clipped. “If we wait for the city to flood, we won't get out of here. We pack light. Food, shelter, water. Anything else, we store upstairs here and hope for the best. Move the MALP to the highest point but still close to the gate so we'll know if they dial it up. The highest ground outside the city is the temple, so we head there. Keep close but move fast. Be careful once we get to the temple; the steps are steep and probably slick when wet.”

“I thought I'd let Berinski and Bronte run ropes up either side, we can hang on to them as we climb.”

Jackson nodded. “Good idea.”

“Okay. Make sure everything is packed up and ready. Especially the tents. We'll shelter as many of the refugees as we can. Jackson.”

“Get ready to get wet?”

“Berinski, accompany Jackson to the gate. When the SGC dials in, let them know what we're going to do.”

*

They'd been huddled in the rain for more hours than Creighton cared to count. Between the temple and the tents, they'd managed to shelter everyone; thankfully, all the families with children had gone in the first evac.

“All right, watch schedule. Bronte, take the first two hours, then Berinski, then Hernandez and I'll take the last.”

“I didn't hear my name in there?” Jackson said softly.

“No offense, Doc, but you aren't...” Creighton paused.

“I suspect you're about to say something that will offend. Me, at least. For as long as this takes, I am a member of SG-7.”

“Fine! You take the last watch after me. And for the record, I reserve the right to shoot Felger when this is all over.”

“Oh, you're going to have to fight me for that privilege.”

*

“You sure you're up to this, Jackson?” Creighton asked when Jackson crawled out of the makeshift lean-to.

“I'm fine. Just wet.”

“Doc, this is tough. For everyone. Especially...”

“Someone who doesn't remember everything?”

“That's gotta be tough.”

“Not really.” Jackson's eyes were unreadable in the near-dawn light. Creighton's eyebrows rose. “You don't know what you don't know until you don't know it.”

Creighton tried to parse that out. “That make no sense.”

“Hernandez tried to tell me about a poker game. I don't remember that. So I didn't know that I didn't know until I knew that it happened.” He cocked his head to one side. “At least, she said it happened.”

Creighton snorted. “Oh, it happened, alright. I lost fifty bucks on that game.”

“Oh, well,” Jackson fumbled. “Sorry about that.”

“My fault. O'Neill told me not to bet against you. And he was right.” Creighton paused, handed Daniel the P90. “In more ways than one.”

*

“So...” O'Neill was waiting as the wormhole closed behind them at Alpha site.

“Somewhere on this base, there is a hot shower with my name on it,” Daniel barely paused long enough to hand off his weapons and dripped his way out of the room.

“Infirmary first, Jackson.” Creighton shouted. Jackson waved a hand that might not have had all five fingers extended. Creighton grinned at O'Neill. “So...”

“He did fine, O'Neill. Didn't panic, didn't lose his head, pulled his own weight. He'll do.”

The two men fell into step together. “Want me to shoot Felger for you?” Jack said hopefully.

“No. Lost a bet with Jackson. He gets that honor.”

Jack slapped Creighton on the back. “Told you not to bet against Daniel.”


End file.
